USA > California > Sonoma County > Casa Grande : a California pastoral > Part 5
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Miller called off his labourers for a parley. It was an unsatisfactory conference, since their knowledge of Spanish, the only language both understood, was inadequate to express their feelings. He made out, however, that one of their number had been wounded, and they demanded as indemnity a pair of horses. He agreed to give them what they de- manded, but they wanted the horses from the offend- ing squatters, or else they would kill the first man that came out of the cabin.
The other squatters were gathering to the help of their neighbours, each armed with a rifle, and all
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crack shots, but they numbered only ten or twelve against thirty or forty Indians. There were sen- sible, determined men in the relief party, and Miller talked over the situation with them. Many lives might be sacrificed if the red men were not pacified, and the ranchero, after stating the demand of his labourers, proposed to pay for the horses if the ag- gressors would give them up.
The offer was rejected by the besieged, who deter- mined to make no concessions whatever. The In- dians might be damned, the presence of the neigh- bours giving courage to the mischief-makers, and the others were but lukewarm in advocating any compromise.
It was nearly noon when Manuel rode over to see how Miller was progressing. The ranchero was los- ing temper at the insolent attitude of the squatters, and he sent the old soldier back to get all the arms and ammunition in the big house, which were dis- tributed among the little band of warriors, and they prepared for a swift attack.
The neighbours had gathered close to the cabin of the besieged, and, finding themselves surrounded
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by well-armed red men, each protected by some nat- ural defence, they went into the house.
As Miller, with a half-dozen warriors, was de- ploying behind the cabin, he encountered Belle. She assured him that no women or children were there, and he went up to a large boulder on the hillside, loosened the rock and sent it crashing into the house. It smashed the stone chimney and destroyed the end wall. With bundles of dry brush the red men then stole up in the rear, protected by the stable, and threw the inflammable material against the house, set fire to it and, still protected by any object that might hide the body of a man, closed around their victims.
The fire soon caught the dwelling, and a man came out with a flag of truce. Miller met him, and at once made terms, the same as proposed by himself earlier in the day, and called off his warriors, but too late, however, for the white men to save the building.
That night the Indians were guarded by the en- tire force from Casa Grande, the men sleeping about a watch-fire. The next day Miller hauled them to
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the valley of the Casa Grande, where his own dwell- ing would intervene between the squatters and the Indians. The entire day, however, was consumed in the removal, and the master felt, when he retired that night, much as he imagined the red men must have felt in the morning. A new problem had been added to his cares; a new danger threatened the white men in their own folly. He must prevent a spark from being thrown among his high explosives, that would destroy the entire settlement in Dry Creek, and to do this he must be ever near his work- men.
In the fragrant dawn of the next day the mowers took their places on the hay field, only their shoul- ders visible above the standing grain. They wore no hats, and as they moved to and fro at work they appeared like swimmers in a placid lake. The ver- dure stretched away on every side, like a level sea, the bleaching seed pods giving an effect of mist on green-blue water. At noon the scythes had swept wide aisles through the compact growth and deep- cushioned the floors with fading green. At night the green had turned to honey-colour.
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Harvesting went uneventfully along, and the hay lay curing in yellowing heaps. The crop should be stored as soon as cured, to save it from summer rains, and the hauling of it to the sheds Miller had expected to have done by his neighbours. Under present conditions he could hardly trust them, and the only thing to do was to rely on his own teams with the Indian teamsters. They had succeeded very well in hauling stones for the new wall, and he would put them to the test with the hay crop.
Two weeks had passed since haying began, and the grass was nearly all moved. The teams were hauling away the hay in fragrant wagon loads, and Miller was congratulating himself on the serenity of their progress and taking some credit for the watchful guard he had kept. Towards sundown he strolled to the barn to see how nearly it was filled, and as he returned he noticed half a dozen horsemen ride up to the Indians in the hay-field, the actions of the strangers not at all friendly.
The ranchero galloped down to the newcomers, and examined, as he went, the revolver strapped to the horn of his saddle. The strangers, all well
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armed, were friends of the squatters, and on their way from Santa Rosa had planned to assist Miller's neighbours in persecuting him by driving the In- dians from the field, as none of the red men had weapons. Miller rode close to the invaders before drawing rein, and he noticed the mowers, one after another, stop and gaze curiously at the white men.
"Gentlemen," asked the ranchero, "what can I do for you?" His voice was pleasant, but with a domi- nant ring.
The men grinned at him, conscious of superior numbers. Two moved as if to flank him.
Miller's hand flashed in a curve away from his waist, and the nearest rider halted hard, gazed down the barrel of a revolver, and on to the face of the man behind the weapon.
Another, who had not observed Miller's face, cried, "Down with him!" and spurred his mount.
The revolver cracked, and the horse dropped, the rider sprawling at the feet of the master of the grant, who, smoking weapon in hand, coolly dis- mounted; he felt sure of himself, for he had tried his opponents.
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"Close up," was his next command, to keep the invaders in front of him, and they obeyed. Then they saw that they themselves were surrounded.
. For a score of the mowers, each a born warrior, had silently gathered. They had stripped to the waist in the heat of the day, and their bodies glis- tened with sweat, the muscles playing smoothly over the round barrel of their ribs. A red cloth bound about each head confined mane-like hair that fell to their shoulders. In their hands were scythes.
It was for but a swift moment, yet the air was tense with watchfulness; even the horses forgot to move. The low of far-away cattle, the bark of a distant dog, the faint "oo-ee" of a vaquero sounded painfully distinct. The swarthy faces of the mowers were expressionless, but the eyes under their banded manes gleamed like furnace openings that show liquid fury beyond. What if they should close on the white marauders? What if Miller could no longer control these silent, almost spectral figures ? The same thought came to the minds of all, for Miller remarked, in an even tone:
"Gentlemen, good-night. Go quick."
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The white men, sullen and ashamed, sped to the south; the red men as swiftly dispersed, and when Miller climbed to his saddle the lithe bodies of the mowers once more swung mechanically to the sweep of scythes. These primitive labourers would not again be molested; they had proved themselves fighters.
The master of Casa Grande returned dejectedly up the slope to the dwelling. The sun had set and the shadows above the eastern hills were arching toward the west. Among the trees on the trail to Dry Creek a figure moved smoothly. Miller re- garded it absently. He was brooding over the tem- per of the squatters, and in the reaction following his meeting with them and the weariness from a long day's labour, he wondered if it were worth while to live longer among the snarling pack. Some move- ment of the climbing figure, a graceful, dainty mo- tion, betrayed her, and he drew rein to watch her disappear over the top of the hill. He regretted that she had witnessed the meeting in the harvest field. Then the bell clanged from the watch tower, and his pony bounded away to the stable.
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Throughout the harvest it had been ideal weather ; now that it was nearly over, a puff of white, as a cloud filled its fleecy sail, caused Manuel anxiously to watch the heavens. A few days more, and the hay would be stored-then rain would not so much matter. The master rode up as the cook scanned the sky, and the weather prophet was asked to make a forecast.
"Yeh," was the answer; "by 'n by rain." "To-day or to-morrow?"
"This week, me theenk," was the safe reply. It was now Wednesday.
Miller thought of Wash Clark and his team. The lad might be hired to help out and hasten the storing of the crop. Perhaps his friendship might stand between the ranchero and the prejudice of the squatters, and the man rode to Dry Creek. It was days since he had been to the Clarks', and he noticed many changes. The spring had been piped to the cabin, and already a garden was starting, and vines and shrubs budded here and there. The yard had been enclosed, out- buildings erected, and the domestic animals and
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fowls were quite at home in their new domi- ciles.
Mrs. Clark came out and hesitated in her refusal of Miller's offer. Five dollars a day would help just now when they needed many things.
"Wash 'll be here in a minute," she explained. "Perhaps we'd better leave it to him."
Belle stepped to the porch. "We can't spare Wash and the team," she said. "We have many things to do."
"I'll pay seven and a half the rest of the week," ventured the master of Casa Grande. "Every day counts." He glanced at the clouds.
"You know how we feel. I'd refuse twenty dol- lars !"
"Wash! Wash!" called his mother, waving her apron as she caught sight of her son. When he came up she told him of Miller's offer.
"Yes, I'll go," gladly replied the boy.
"No, Wash, we're too busy now," insisted his sister.
"Only three or four days," protested the boy. "You can wait. We need the money."
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He hastened into the hills to catch the team, and Miller, doubtful of his advantage, rode away.
When Wash fetched the horses to the gate Belle sat on the porch.
"Are you mad, sis?" he good-naturedly asked. "Yes, I am."
"Because he likes me better 'n you," the boy teas- ingly continued.
"It's no such thing!"
Wash laughed at what he considered unnecessary warmth in her contradiction, and banteringly added : "He can ride better 'n you." It was the first time the brother had admitted that any one could ride better than his sister.
She did not answer this last stricture; she saw she was being teased.
When Wash was ready to start away, he some- what irrelevantly announced : "He likes you, too." "I hate him!"
The boy again laughed, rather sceptically this time, and Belle rose to enter the house.
"How do you know he likes me?"
Wash deliberately looked over horses, harness and
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wagon before he climbed to his seat, and answered : "When you rode to Casa Grande about the fight be- tween the squatters and the Indians he said you were a brave woman."
He had called her a brave woman. Did he mean it ?- did he mean it? Her ideal of life was to be a brave woman, and a brave man had called her that. Once again the little room with white curtains and white bed became silent witnesses of the girl's happy tears.
Wash and team were kept busy at Casa Grande. The clouds gathered slowly, but with increasing thickness. Friday night a light shower fell; then the sky cleared till Saturday night, when the storm broke heavily, the rain starting melodies on the red- tiled roof, which rang like metallic plates to the pat- tering hammers of raindrops. The last load of hay had been protected, and long before midnight the wearied household was sleeping, only the master stirring. Out through the windows a veil of mist obscured the stars and lay like a downy counterpane over the earth. About the hearth, in the glow of burnt-out logs, stretched the dogs. As the owner
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stood a moment regarding them, they thumped indolent tails and drew their breath deep with content.
Manuel rose on his cot in a corner and called, softly : "Dam' fine rain, Meestah Jone."
"Did I waken you, old man?" was the apologetic reply. "Good-night," and the master disappeared into his own room.
Wash went home after breakfast next morning. If he could be at Casa Grande, where at least one person understood him, it meant living. To asso- ciate with a masterful man, to be noticed by him, to be trusted by him-these are influences that find the soul of youth.
Miller followed close behind Wash to Dry Creek. The man first had ridden to the glen of the Aguas Frias, where azaleas were banked in creamy-white bloom, and he had cut a swelling armful of the frag- rance. His victory over Belle in securing Wash rankled in his memory; he would trust these white- winged messengers to plead his necessity. Belle saw the horseman coming-the mass of flowers first- and wondered. He rode to the porch-rail and, with
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sunshine in his glance, held out the flashing bunch of colour still gemmed by raindrops.
"I've brought you a thanks-offering," he said. "Wash saved the hay. You'll pardon my urgency last week."
The girl turned resentful eyes to him and put her hands quickly behind her, but did not speak.
"Come, now," he banteringly called, still holding out the flowers, "I've never seen you with a bunch like this in your arms."
They gazed deep into each other's souls, and her glance changed from resentment to challenge. She impulsively took the blossoms, folded them to her breast the way women have, buried her face caress- ingly in their fragrance, and shyly turned to the door. As she entered, she stopped to look back. He caught the white of her rounded neck, the scarlet of her parted lips, and a flash in her eyes that sent his heart to his throat. For once, the man's lids drooped.
CHAPTER VIII
BUT HE GAVE ME NO ANSWER
N OT long after hay harvest, the sheriff rode past the now deserted feeding-sheds and up the rise to Casa Grande. The sun was near to setting, and the air, cooling after a hot day, was clear and fragrant. Mourning doves were wailing the depart- ing light and cock-quails clamorously gathered the early broods to their roosting. The horseman now and then, with a suggestion of perplexity, ran his fingers through thick, straight hair, lifting it to the breeze, or braced himself erectly in the saddle, the slight droop of his rugged figure not wholly due to fatigue.
Bailey for weeks had been disquieted by the master of Casa Grande's increasing attentions to the Clarks. The bailing of the family, the building of their new cabin, even the bunch of azaleas carried by Miller to
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the girl-insignificant, perhaps, considered singly- were courtesies that gathered meaning by their re- currence.
When the ranchero first took possession of the Aguas Frias grant the resentment of the settlers, including Belle and her family, was so evident that the land-owner was in danger of personal violence. This relationship had been maintained until legal proceedings were begun to eject the squatters, and then the attitude of all parties suddenly became covert.
It was months, therefore, after Bailey first met Miller before the ranchero had given any sign of interest in the girl, or in her family. Even as it was, his regard appeared to be prompted by inbred chiv- alry rather than by personal attraction, making it the more difficult to criticise.
And the girl herself-her incomprehensible ways- There was reason for uneasiness, almost for despair ; but Bailey was not of the temper to yield till the last word had been spoken. He realised, too, that Belle had given him, as yet, no right to claim her affections for his own. She had been his willing
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friend, his ready comrade, but beyond that she never had encouraged him.
An irresistible attraction impelled him to visit the place of his coveted rose-garden, and the man dwell- ing next to it. This evening had been taken from the rush of a political canvass to put an end to the suspense he no longer could endure-to learn if, for him, she were a garden forever inclosed.
When the meal was over, host and guest lingered after the men had withdrawn. Bailey smoked ab- stractedly, leaning on the table. Miller, luxuriating in the pleasures of companionship, thought of noth- ing in particular, and filled up the silence by stroking Gyp, perched beside him on the bench.
The visitor evidently had been observing the host, for the moody man abruptly remarked: "If I were as fond of pets as you are, I'd get a wife." The subject uppermost in his mind was broached at last.
"Matrimony has its advantages," solemnly con- fessed the ranchero. "But," he added, with a twin- kle in his eyes, "dogs, and horses, and cows are easier to find."
"Oh, I'm not trying to interfere, but I've been
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thinking that some woman is missing a good home -and a better husband."
"Have you anybody in mind?" asked Miller, a note of banter still in his tone.
"No, John, none of my women. Something fine -thoroughbred-like yourself."
Miller, too, leaned on the table and gazed stead- fastly at his guest, then quietly asked: "What is thoroughbred?"
The guest looked up doubtfully, and Miller pro- ceeded to answer his own question. "It's the doing. To do a thing counts as much as pedigree-more! Think of all the pedigreed flunkers; worse than scrubs! The most obscure mare that can run the pace may not become thoroughbred by her perform- ances, but she may become the dam of thorough- breds."
The speaker paused and smiled. His voice had lifted, the ring in it telling that he had deeply con- sidered what qualities make thoroughbred.
Bailey straightened irritably and shook his head. Some things in his friend's philosophy were beyond understanding. He, who had been poor and obscure
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all his life, failed to appreciate how any one could thus ignore the transcendent advantages of breed- ing. He had not yet discovered that obscure blood makes the very existence of the thoroughbred pos- sible; the name describing a quality of nerve and mind, rather than of bone and muscle.
One thing, however, he did believe-he felt it in his aching heart-that Miller, when stating his theory of success, had Belle in his fancy. She was the obscure blood, and, had she the opportunity, could make the winning pace. A question might test his opinion.
"Would you, then, marry a woman of obscure blood, as you call it?"
Miller looked down at Gyp and dropped a caress- ing hand on her. When he looked up he frankly met the gaze of the other man, and his lips expressed amusement. "I don't know. Why shouldn't I? Men have done stranger things."
"And take her among your friends, to your fam- ily-with her speech, her dress, her manners?"
Miller leaned comfortably back, and asked what would be the speech of such a woman transported
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from the heart of the backwoods to the lap of civili- sation.
Bailey laughed incredulously, and remarked that he thought the ranchero knew.
"What would you do," was the quick reply, "if you were to be set down in Boston to-morrow ? Would you be very conspicuous ?"
The sheriff gazed silently at the dog. The ques- tion evidently had started a new train of thought.
"If my theory is right," continued Miller, "she'll act like peoplesshe finds herself among. Her speech, dress and manner will be copied from her surround- ings. That's the thoroughbred in her."
Bailey looked up interestedly, and asked if his host thought it would be fair to the woman.
"That would depend on the woman."
The questioner had one more condition to urge. "Suppose she had the prospect of a good home with her own kind; then would it be fair?"
Miller had indifferently followed the trend of his guest's inquiries, but their object was clearer now, and this last question called for a definite answer.
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"You're speaking," he replied, "of an engagement -a betrothal. In that case it wouldn't be fair. At best, it wouldn't be profitable."
"No, I'm not speaking of an engagement."
"Then it would depend on the man."
The sheriff frowned uncomprehendingly.
Miller smiled easily, and explained that happiness is not the winning of a great love, but the keeping of it.
Bailey swung round, his back to the table, his elbows resting on it, and lightly answered that love can easily be held if once won.
The ranchero leaned forward and drummed on the boards with his fingers. "I'm afraid of that theory, Bailey."
The sheriff turned his face questioningly over his shoulder.
"Love is like a gushing spring," continued Miller; "it feeds on what it yields. The sun lifts vapours from the ocean; the wind drives them inland; the cold pours them down; and the springs drink of them, and then give them up to the rivers, that flow back to the ocean."
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The sheriff was not listening. His fancy went back to the desert mountains crossed by the over- land route he had followed to the coast. No rain fell on those verdureless wastes, and no springs gushed out of them. He suddenly looked up at his host and said, "Well?"
Miller smiled pleasantly, and finished his com- parison by adding : "I seriously question the wisdom of any man's accepting a deep love unless he is pre- pared to give as deep love in return."
Bailey swung round toward the speaker and re- garded him apprehensively, as if there were a per- sonal meaning in the last speech. He was reassured by his host's serenity, and indolently exclaimed, as he sprawled on the table: "You make this too sol- emn. It isn't worth the trouble! What's in the doing, anyway?"
The master of Casa Grande laughed indulgently, and said: "Aren't great love, great energy, great patience, great cheerfulness, the mothering of capa- ble men and tender women, all in the doing? Aren't they worth while?"
"But," persisted Bailey, reverting to the begin-
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ning of the discussion, "aren't there plenty of thor- oughbreds that can do things?"
The host appeared doubtful what to answer. He ventured the opinion, however, that people who can do things are like gold mines-hard to find. They must be taken where found.
Bailey rose stiffly, and shook himself as if to throw off the doubts suggested by his host's theories. The suspense that rode in with him at sunset had been neither added to nor lessened. Miller had spoken impersonally, as if he were stating a truth of life, far-reaching in its application, but intended for no special case. The visitor took down his hat, and the two men, with a lighted lantern, went out together.
At the stable the departing guest explained, in reply to the ranchero's final protest against leaving Casa Grande at so late an hour, that he expected to stay all night with the Clarks. "Haven't seen my girl for two weeks," he added. There was an at- tempt at lightness in the remark, but the speaker's manner belied his tone.
The sheriff turned his horse's head to the road,
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but wheeled and came back. "You know what I'm going for, Miller." He spoke abruptly, and before the ranchero had time to gather his wits Bailey an- swered himself : "I love Belle and want her for my wife. Are you after her, too?"
Miller laid his hand on the pommel of Bailey's saddle, looked up at the figure of the rider, looming big in the dark, and frankly replied : "You've spoken like a man, Sam. I can't answer your question, be- cause I've never put it to myself. One thing, though, I can say : I'll be no woman's alternative! I must stand alone in her affection."
Once again the sheriff was baffled, and silently rode toward Dry Creek.
Belle, when Bailey walked into the yard, was half reclining on the edge of the porch, her hands clasped behind her head, her eyes dreamily fixed in the direc- tion of Casa Grande. She was expecting no caller at that hour, and if she thought about it at all, she supposed it was one of her brothers. The man halted as he caught sight of her, his throat tighten- ing. His hesitation roused the girl.
"Sam!" she exclaimed. That was all. But her
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fingers, just for a happy moment, lay warm and glad in his.
He sat down, but she urged him to go in, as her mother would like to see him.
"In a minute," he protested. "I want to talk to you. Plenty of time to see your mother. I'm going to stay to-night."
Belle wanted to know if he had had supper, and when he explained that he had eaten at Casa Grande she tartly suggested that he would better go back for his lodging.
The caller was pleased with this touch of asperity, since it held a trace of jealousy. He laughed con- tentedly, and remarked that he preferred present company.
"Put up your horse, then," she said, and together they went to the stable.
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